Wild by Gil Brewer Page B

off the steps, running. I got out there. It was balloon-boy, lumbering through the dark toward the office. He would yell if I grabbed him.
    I went back inside, stepped over Gamba’s body, and started for the bedroom. The white purse was gone from the hall. She was on the floor in the bedroom doorway, the purse in her lap, a bottle in her hand. She took another long pull, then held the bottle upside down, her eyes gone.
    “Empty,” she said clearly. As I started for her, she passed out with a soft moan.
    I hauled her to her feet, picked up her purse. I slung her into a fireman’s carry, rammed her left arm around and caught it with my right hand. She slobbered something against my neck.
    Out by the car, I draped her across the seat and shoved her over. She slumped with her long legs awry. I got behind the wheel.
    The office was dark as I drove past. He would be in there, watching. On the telephone.
    It was too far to take her clear across town to the motel where she was staying. Too many questions would be asked, and I couldn’t answer them. I headed for her sister’s house.
    She was talking to me, but neither of us would ever know what she said.

FOURTEEN
     
    “W HAT ARE YOU trying to say?”
    Asa Crafford stood in the doorway, scowling. She wore a filmy black shorty nightgown with huge red bows at the hips. It didn’t look slept in and she didn’t look sleepy. A light glowed behind her in the hallway, but otherwise the house was dark. I held Ivor Hendrix on her feet at my side. She kept nodding in agreement with what I said.
    “I don’t have time to explain,” I said. “You’ll just have to forget your feelings for a while. I want you to take care of your sister. She’s plastered.”
    Asa Crafford looked disdainfully at her sister, and flipped the long fold of black hair away from her cheek. Then she looked at me.
    “Is this your doing?”
    “You know better than that.”
    “Do I?”
    I walked Ivor up to her. “Take her,” I said. “I don’t have time to argue. She has no place to go right now. She needs help.”
    Ivor Hendrix nodded, her eyes half closed.
    Her sister did not move, except to breathe. Then she said, “What’ve you been doing to her?”
    “Nothing.”
    “You expect me to believe that? Look at her.”
    I looked at Asa Crafford. “Where’s your husband?”
    “In bed.”
    “Well, I’ll get him the hell out of bed, if you don’t hurry up and help.”
    She laughed through her nose. “He’d be a great help, he would. He’d just love this.”
    I didn’t say anything. I moved Ivor Hendrix into her sister’s arms. “Like I said,” I told her, “I don’t have time to argue now.”
    “You come back here!”
    I started down off the porch, turned and looked at them. Asa Crafford had her arms full.
    I said, “Put her to bed. Is that too much to ask?”
    “Is that where you put her?”
    I went down into the drive and over to the car.
    “Damn you,” Asa Crafford called. “Didn’t you hear me?”
    I got in under the wheel, slammed the door, and drove away.
    I suddenly felt dead tired as I hit the street. My head was beginning to ache dully again. I stopped at the first public phone booth I saw and called Hoagy Stills again.
    His wife came on. I told her I was sorry about what had happened before. She sulked and said Hoagy was getting ready to go on duty now. Finally she agreed to let him come to the phone.
    “You sure have protection,” I said.
    “Okay. What is it now?”
    I told him about the .32 automatic, but not
where
I’d found it. “Wondered if you’d run a check on it for me? It’s been fired and it hasn’t been cleaned.”
    “I see,” Hoagy said.
    “Can I catch you before you go on?”
    “I’m just leaving.”
    “Hang on and I’ll be right over.”
    “A .32, you said?”
    “Right. Will you wait?”
    “Look, Lee. I’m late, now. I haven’t slept.” He cleared his throat. “Why not come down to the lab?”
    I hesitated. “Rather see you before you go